Six years ago I was still reeling from my divorce, and had just heard that my mum had terminal cancer.

Life was pretty grim and the only thing that really kept me going, apart from my wonderful mum’s fight, was my kids.

I have four, and they were all living with me.

Then I met the man of my dreams. Not only was he great-looking, and also great in bed, but we just clicked.

He had three children around the age of mine, and he was struggling to bring them up as his wife, an alcoholic, had just deserted them all.

I work from home, so does he. Life became suddenly bright and beautiful.

In less than a year I’d moved myself and my brood into his sprawling house, and mine and his got on like a house on fire.

He was my rock. I confided everything in him, as he did in me. We’d both been through a very rough time and it felt as if we’d just landed on the shore of a new life.

So scroll down to now, right now. I don’t know what to do.

My mum died, three years ago, and I went a bit off the rails, and sometimes I felt that there was only so much of my mourning he could cope with.

He started getting slightly aggressive with me. It’s got worse and worse.

He shouts at my kids, and keeps going on about how wonderful his wife was and how he wishes he was with her.

In fact he went to see her only three weeks ago, leaving me in charge of my kids and his.

And yes, it was sexually very satisfying to get him back home, but since then he’s started to blank me out. The rows were better. At least we were communicating.

Now he ignores me. My kids are getting frantic and so am I.

But the thing is, I don’t have anywhere else to live. I want to leave, and know I should.

I bought a flat with the money mum left me, but the mortgage is huge. I’ve let it out and I have to give two months’ notice to the tenants.

So here’s my query – do I burn my boats, do that, and move out with the three kids who are still at home with me?

It’s a two-bed flat, but we could squeeze into it. The mortgage will kill me and I’d have to work my butt off to earn enough to keep us.

Or do I trust that this is going to blow over? We’re sleeping apart and not speaking, and his nastiness to my kids is getting worse and worse.

Is it just a passing phase? Should I believe that it’ll get better?

Barbara says: It sounds well and truly finished, and your kids are suffering.

You can’t put yourself or them through any more hassle.

Move out, become independent again, learn how to live. Breathe again.

Have fun making ends meet (it’s strange how mince becomes an attractive buy!) Be you again. Give your tenants notice. Move out.